


for the first time | (be-the-peaf week 46)

by ebonynightwriter



Series: Be The Peaf [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Be the Peaf, Drugs, F/M, Friendship, Growing Up, Metalband!AU, Modern Setting, Music, One-Shot, Romance, saying goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonynightwriter/pseuds/ebonynightwriter
Summary: Wan is seventeen when his world leaves him – six years later, he’s not sure she’ll remember him at all. | Waava Metalband AU |Warning:Some Descriptions of Drug Use, Language
Relationships: Raava/Wan (Avatar), Waava, Waava (Relationship)
Series: Be The Peaf [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966660
Kudos: 8





	for the first time | (be-the-peaf week 46)

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Posting this in October 2020, this was originally published in February of 2014 on tumblr ([original post](https://ebonynightwriter.tumblr.com/post/76792835358)). I don't remember a lot about this as usual but looking back at it gives me a very... "indie movie" vibe so hopefully it's still enjoyable after all this time. It's loosely based off [kkirschteins](http://tmblr.co/m8l0K57_z1kk4DX-fThzjrw) Waava AU “[about today](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579376)”, but I took some liberties with the plot / character direction. Title comes from a song by The Script. As mentioned in the summary, this fic does contain some descriptions of drug use and language, so please read at your own discretion.
> 
> -.-
> 
>  **be-the-peaf** · Prompt 046 – remember (me)
> 
> -.-

**i. the coat** **  
** _(give it back back back)_

It’s autumn, and the air that blows through the entrance of the school is chilled, wet and smells of rotting leaves. Wan doesn’t have a coat, or at least he doesn’t have _his_. The Chou brothers had taken it during class when he wasn’t looking and refused to give it back, even when he complained to the teacher that it was his in the first place. But, of course, they’d believe the three sons of the principle over the dirt-nosed kid that’s been thrown into detention more times than his age. He doesn’t even know why they’d want it in the first place – it was just a worn-out jacket.

“Cheer up, Wan.” Jaya says, swinging his legs off the wide stone railing. “Yao will be here soon.”

He buries his face into his bare arms and turns away. “I’m not upset. It’s just _cold_.”

“You know they wouldn’t let us back inside.” He replies. “It’s too late. Everyone in there is either in for detention or after school activities.”

“Maybe we should join a sport, or something.” Wan says, resting his chin on his arm.

Jaya’s mouth shrinks into a tight line and he kicks his heel on the stone with wandering thought, as if he never considered the idea before now.

“Yeah, that could work… But you have enough trouble not getting into fights _during_ class.” He says. “What makes you think you’d do any better after school?”

“The Chou’s aren’t in any sports, they’re always ‘prowling’ the grounds after school.” He says. “We could always get thrown in detention again… it’d beat waiting out here till six every day.”

“Yeah, but–”

_“Hey!”_

Wan leans forward, stretching as far as he can to see the bush behind Jaya. The railings cover most of him, but Wan can just see the rounded tip of the staff sticking over the stone.

_Speak of the devil…_

“I can’t see you over there!” he shouts. “Come a little to the left, shorty.”

“Shut up!” Lu jumps, his arms flailing with rage.

“Now I can see you!” he grins. “Good job.”

“I told you to shut up!” Lu yells, hopping to the stairs and right into Wan’s face. Even with him crouched over, Lu’s head was still at his eye level. “You two shouldn’t be out here!”

Wan swipes at imaginary dirt on his pants with a sigh. Then, before Lu has any idea, grabs hold of the boy’s shirt, lifting him up till his feet hang off the ground. He squirms, but Wan keeps his grip tight, even as his arms shake from the weight.

“Why don’t you tell me where Ping is, huh?” Wan says, leaning his face into Lu’s. “I’d like my jacket back before I go home today. It’s getting cold out here, ya know?”

Lu whimpers, his eyes on the verge of tears as he cries out “Ping! Guan!! Help!”

Jaya jumps off the railing and puts a hand on Wan’s tense shoulder.

“This isn’t a good idea…”

“We can handle it.” He whispers. “Just get ready to run…”

It takes no less than a minute for the other brothers to appear. They stare at him with cross faces, their fat eyebrows pushed together so much it looked like a caterpillar had crawled above their eyes.

Keeping a grip on Lu’s shirt, Wan turns to face the two brothers.

“Hello fellas! I’d like my jacket back now.”

Guan, the oldest (and tallest) brother, points his staff at him. “Put Lu down first.”

Wan shrugs. “If you insist.” And tosses Lu into his brother’s path. The Chou’s scramble to go after them, but Wan is already pushing Jaya along the wall of the school with a good head start.

“Jeez, Wan!” Jaya yells as he tries to keep up with him. “You’ve really pissed them off this time!”

He laughs and grins over his shoulder. “I know! Now follow me!”

**ii. the meeting** **  
** _(angel from above?)_

Even with the Chou’s on their tails, Wan looks in the windows blurring past them and sees two teens mad on adrenaline and joyous glee. Their legs shoot past another in a flurry of loose jeans, knee-to-knee, and the wind rushes pass his ears and he listens as the sound of a piano floats through the air. The music department held lessons after school for students eager to learn, and more than often, they would perform with the windows open.

That was their ticket out of this mess – all they had to do was find it.

The piano’s melody reaches its peak, a line of high notes, cascading down to their ultimate end and he stops, just as the music has, and scans the wall furiously for the window with the notes still hanging on the air. His breath runs through his nose like a horse – he can’t find the window.

“Wan!” Jaya rasps, just as winded as he is. “Why’d you stop?”

_Where is it–_

He looks above.

“Shit!” he yells as he comes into view with the window on the second floor. He grabs Jaya’s arm and pulls him away from the building. There was no way they could reach up there – they’d have to try someplace else… Maybe if they could get to the trees–

The weight of the Chou’s body slamming into him knocks all thoughts from him. Wan lands hard against the building, his elbow almost running completely through the glass if it wasn’t for Jaya pushing him forward. After years of dealing with situations like this, they’d gotten good at keeping each other out of trouble.

But it looks like this wasn’t one of them.

Ping stands in the middle of his brothers with his staff rested over one shoulder, twitching up and down as he smirked at the boys.

“ _There_ you are!” he says, lifting his chin. Guan and Lu move away from their brother, trapping them against brick and glass. Wan balls his hands into fist, raising them before the closing enemy, but Jaya grabs his hand, and pulls him away.

“We can’t fight them, Wan.” He whispers. “You know what the Yao said–”

“ _I know_ what he said, but we don’t really have a choice, now do we?”

“What’s wrong, Wan?” Ping asks, pulling on the folds of _his_ jacket. He arcs his stick at Wan, the tip hovering inches from his chest. “I thought you wanted your coat back.”

His eyes close as Ping lifts the staff for a strike – but the blow never comes. Instead of pain, he feels a rush of wind and a painful _“oof!”_ from Ping and he opens them, expecting to see Jaya in front of him, but instead sees a girl.

_Where did she come from?_

The girl takes the fallen staff from Ping’s hand and puts her foot against his head, driving his face into the dirt.

“You are interrupting my practice.” She says in the calmest voice he’s ever heard. “You two.” She looks to the other Chou’s. “Get lost.”

The two Chou’s flee in terror, and the girl lifts her foot from Ping and crouches beside him.

“That jacket isn’t yours.”

“I’ll give it back right away!” Ping scream, scrambling up and throwing the coat to the ground. “There! Now leave me alone!”

The girl watches as Ping flees with his brothers, and turn back to them.

“Thank for the help!” he says, and then realizes he doesn’t actually know her name. “Uhh…?”

She takes his jacket and hands it to him with a near silent _“here”_ and walks back to the entrance of the school, without giving her name. Wan watches her leave, and looks to the open window straight above him, an idea forming in his mind.

“Jaya, I think I know what we can do.”

**iii. the lesson** **  
** _(the start of many things)_

It takes some doing (and forking over half their allowance) but they finally persuade Yao that music lessons would be the perfect thing for them to do after school. Wan goes in at 3:00 for guitar, while Jaya opts for percussion an hour later. It’s hard to get his fingers on the strings (he didn’t even think human hand could stretch that far) but after a few days his fingertips press on the strings with a wobbling touch as he plucks _‘C, B, D’_ while looking at dots and lines on paper he can’t even _hope_ to understand.

His teacher says _‘you’ll get it – it takes time’_ but every day Wan walks out of the room, nods to Jaya as goes in for his lesson and sits on the bench by the door, feeling just as confused as before.

“Well it beats waiting outside for three hours…” he says to no one in particular, knocking the top of his head into the painted brick behind him. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he pulls out the pencil he uses for class and twirls it between his fingers to pass the time. His teachers always tell him to stop during class, on account that he always drops it, or flings it across the room. But he knew that if he could learn how to play the guitar for an hour each day, then he could certainly figure out how to spin a pencil without having it go flying across the room in the same amount of time.

But of course, it wasn’t going to happen automatically, and after the sixth spin the pencil goes careening down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of a classroom two doors down.

 _Good distance_ , he thinks.

When he walks down the hall, he hears the growing sound of a piano.

Taking the pencil between two fingers, Wan turns around to the classroom opposite of him and slowly approaches window silt on the door. The room is marked _‘choir room’_ but there’s no singers inside. In fact, there’s not even a teacher – the only soul inside the stomach of the room, sitting before the shining black piano, is the same brown-haired girl who dropped out of the sky because they had _‘interrupted her practice.’_

Sure, she pretty much saved his life back then, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t think she was a little _creepy_ playing the piano in the middle of an empty (and restricted) classroom.

Wan swallows and his hand slides to his head, as if he could feel the same pain Ping felt from having her foot pressed into his skull and he turns around with the same caution he had in his approach, sliding his feet away from the door as the phrase “ _I should get out of here_ ” runs through his mind like the words at the bottom of a news show.

But instead of slipping away quietly like he’d hoped, the piano stops, the door opens, and his heel is frozen to the ground as he looks back to see her watching him with the same blank expression she’d worn after she jumped out the window.

He straightens up and faces her with a shaking smile on his lips.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb you… I, uh, dropped my pencil, you see, and–”

She nods and what he thinks might be a smile flashes across her face, but it disappears before he knows for sure, and suddenly she’s stuck a hand out to him.

“Raava.”

It take him a moment for him to make the connection, then he puts his hand in hers and gives it a strong shake.

“Wan.”

That’s how it begins.

**iv. the routine** **  
** _(it goes like this)_

Every day, after he’s done with his lesson, Wan grabs his backpack and guitar, slaps Jaya on the back and marches two doors to the left. And every day, she looks up from the piano as the door opens, even though she doesn’t need to. Some days he’ll sit on the bleachers with his guitar in hand, running through what he’d been learning that week. And while guitar isn’t something she knows well, sheet music is, so she’ll remove her hands from the white keys to sit and listen as he plays with the occasional correction when he misreads a note or melody.

Other times, he’ll lay out on the bleachers while her fingers guide along the keys, the string of notes as flawless as the day before. The music is calm and gentle with a slow lull in the middle, and it puts him to sleep right there, his head resting on the hard books and bending spirals that reside in his backpack.

Jaya comes in after his lesson, and gives him a solid kick to the thigh.

“Ah…” he groans, peaking his eyes open enough to swipe at him (even though he’s halfway across the room by now) “I wasn’t even sleeping!”

“You were _snoring_.”

“No, I wasn’t.” he waves a hand elegantly at the piano. “I was listening to Raava, as always.”

“Really?” Raava turns on the bench, propping a hand beneath her chin. “I stopped playing ten minutes ago.” 

Wan’s hand goes limp.

“Oh.”

**v. the pastime** **  
** _(your kind of music)_

The question is a simple one, but after weeks of meeting in the choir room, listening to the piano and going over a multitude of sheet music and chords, he realizes that he’s never actually _asked it_.

“So what do you do in your free time?”

Raava’s face turns into a mix of surprise and flat out boredom as she props her elbow on the top of the piano to make adjustments to the music, reminders for her to catch at another time. She glances at him between circling sections, and he crosses his legs, waiting for her answer.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “Well, I already know you play the piano. What else do you like to do?”

“I listen to music…” she says. “That’s about it.”

His head shakes _(figures)_ and puts his arms on his knees.

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

“What are you asking so many questions?”

“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” he asks. “I just want to get to know you, outside the piano thing. But I suppose it was a stupid question… the answer is obvious.”

Putting the pencil on the piano’s stand, she turns and eyes him. “Oh really? Then what kind of music do I listen to?”

Wan shrugs and waves his hand in the air as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh you know, all that slow, classic stuff.”

“Really?” she says, raising her brow as she reaches into the bag beside her feet. From it she takes out an old CD player and he thinks _gotcha_ as she holds out one of the tangled earbuds to him. “Then come sit over here for a minute. I’ll show you if you’re right.”

He pops it into his ear, and she untangles the rest of the wire, plugging it into the end of a music player. She glances at him with her thumb hovering above the play button.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

She presses the button, and the sound that comes to his ears is one he recognizes instantly, but it’s certainly not what he expected.

_Rock._

**vi. the road trip** **  
** _(just say fuck me)_

The shake of the car drives into his back as they go over _another_ bump and he tosses the blanket they’d covered him with (it’s too hot for it anyway – even at night) and sticks his head between front seats.

“Can’t you drive a little gentler?”

“It’s the road.” Raava says, staring straight ahead. “There’s nothing I can do.”

He nudges Jaya’s shoulder. “Switch with me.”

“Nope.” Jaya says with a _pop_ to his p and a smart grin on his face. “You agreed to the rules when we started this thing: _Wan stays in the back, on his back. Nothing else._ ”

“We’re in the middle of _nowhere!_ ” he shouts, stretching a hand out to the vast nothingness on either side of them. “I’m not going to see anything.”

“Lay back down, Birthday Boy.” Raava says, looking at him through the rearview mirror. “We’ll tell you when we get there.”

“Oh I see how it is.” Wan goes back in his seat, throwing his hands behind his head. “Throw me in a car after school, drive to the middle of nowhere–”

He leans forward with one hand to his chin, rubbing it in careful thought.

“You guys aren’t going to murder me, are you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Wan.”

Jaya sways his head at her. “Raava, it’s been two years now, just say _‘fuck you_ ’.”

Wan sits up and grins, resting his arm on the corner of Raava’s seat. She keeps her eyes on the road, but can’t help to look in the mirror, where Wan is making pouting, puppy-eyed faces at her.

“I’m waiting, _Raaaaaaava_ …”

Her lips spread into a coy smile.

“Fuck you!”

The car bursts out laughing.

.

.

.

After five hours of driving, they finally arrive at their destination. But as he sits up, he’s surprised they turn not toward the shimmering city ahead of them, but down a separate path to the side. He can see some kind of commotion going on in the distance, lights shining on the horizon and Wan is absolutely _floored_ as they make another turn to the beach and he reads the autumn colored banner hanging off the fence.

He can’t keep the grin off his face.

“A Freedom Fighters concert?” he says, sticking his head out the window as they approach the mass of people that had gathered at the beachfront. A large stage lighting up the blue-shadowed sand. “ _Seriously?!_ ”

“You betcha.” Jaya says, smiling back at him. “Happy 16th Birthday, Wan.”

**vii. the concert** **  
** _(cannibus beach)_

They’d managed to weave their way into the middle of the moving crowd, pulsating with the music’s beat. He’d almost gotten swept away a few times, edging closer to the center stage, where Jet and his infamous Freedom Fighters sang and rocked the house down. But there was always a tug on his shirt or a hand around his wrist to pull him back, but in the blind, fog lit crowd, he couldn’t see who it was every time.

They send Jaya out to get snacks between sets, and Raava explained how Yao helped them pay for most of the trip, including handing them enough for plenty of overpriced food. But Jaya, drunk on the buzz of the crowd and being idiotic as he’d ever been, ended up buying a batch of cannabis blunts from someone they’d never met, leaving them with less than half of the money Yao had given them.

After a shouting match that ended with them missing the middle half of the show trying to find the dealer, Jaya shoved the bag of blunts into the pockets lining the inside of his jacket. Wan’s never smoked pot before, but he’s no stranger to it with all the orphanages and poorly managed foster homes he’d been to over the years. Eventually they come to the agreement to try it after the concert was done, as the ‘grand finale’ to their trip.

**viii. the beach** **  
** _(sea and sandy hair)_

They lay on the beach when the concert is over, limbs sprawled out on white sand and the glow of the city (whose name he can’t recall) shines across the water’s edge, the light miles from their eyes. Jaya hands him a blunt, pot shelled in cigarette paper, and Wan sparks a lighter they bought off some guy as they left the stage grounds. Fire lights his face and he puts it to the end of the stick as the sea creeps up the shoreline.

When he takes his first drag, he feels like someone’s shoved a bonfire down his throat.

In a fit of coughs, he sits up wincing, and quickly holds his hand to the left as the white smoke leaves his mouth in puffs.

“You’re _*cough*_ turn.”

Jaya sticks it between his teeth right away, taking a long breath as the tip of the blunt up lights his face. He smiles as he exhales the smoke through his nose, but Wan can tell but the way his teeth press together he’s fighting the urge to cough. 

Jaya hands the blunt to Raava, who holds up a hand.

“I’ve already said I wasn’t going to try it.” She says. “Besides, someone’s got to get us to the motel we booked, and it’s not going to be one of you.”

“Suit yourself.” Jaya says, coughing a bit as he puts it to his lips again. Wan rolls over on the sand and takes the blunt between his fingers. The second time doesn’t feel like his throat is burning, but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“So what happens now?” he asks. “I don’t feel any different.”

“It takes a while, dumbass.” Jaya replies. “Just give it five minutes, then you’ll see. You’ll be craving and looking at more shit than you’ll know what to do.”

He hands the blunt back and lays flat on the sand. “Fine.”

.

.

.

When he opens his eyes minutes later, the sand tickles his skin and his lifts his arm with a torrent of laughter bubbling behind his breath. The grains of sand stuck to it reflects light like sparks of a fire, he even thinks he could hear it snap as the light flashes in his eyes, but can’t know for sure. The sea is too loud.

He looks straight up, and immediately hits the ground beside Jaya.

“Hey, dude. Look up.”

A prolonged _whoooooa_ is all he says in response, and Wan knows that he’s seeing the same thing. The stars, once blotted out by the cityscape, now sparkle and shine through the night sky. _Like diamonds… or sugar_ Wan thinks, and he smacks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Hey, Raava.” He says, reaching up to where she sits between them. “Do we have any ice cream?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Can we _get_ some ice cream?”

He laughs as she leans over his face.

“Your hair tickles.” He says between chuckles, tugging on the ends that lay against his face.

“Yours is full of sand.” She says. “And no, we’re not getting any ice cream tonight. We need the rest of the money to pay for the trip home.”

“ _Pleeeeeease?”_

“No.” she says sternly and lifts her face from his. He looks at the sky one more time, then his gaze comes to rest on her as she digs into the bag she’d brought with them, pulling out the old music player and sticking the buds into his ears. “Here, listen to this.”

With the press of a button, music fills his head. Only it doesn’t sound like the same music they listened to before. The beat pulses through him, the rhythm is fast and intense and he feels like his mind and body is moving a million miles per second, even though he’s lying so so still. She takes the headphones out once the song is done to stick them in Jaya’s ears, so he can have the same feeling.

“Hey Raava?”

She sighs. “Yes?”

“You look beautiful.”

She smiles, and shakes her head. “Shut up, Wan.”

 _I meant it_ , he wants to say, but when he opens his mouth Jaya’s hands shoot into the air.

_“We should start a band!”_

And the thought is lost – for an even bigger one.

**ix. the band** **  
** _(you have an awful voice)_

They do it.

Start a band, that is.

It’s just the three of them in the garage, and the only electric instrument they own is the keyboard Raava bought last year so she wouldn’t have to practice in the choir room every day, but it’s better than nothing. Jaya got drums for his birthday, and Wan keeps his old acoustic, saying that when they “make it big” he’ll buy the electric one from the local music store. They always laugh when he says this, but in the meantime, he puts a quarter of his paycheck from the Oasis Mart into a small can underneath his bed, saving a little every two weeks until he can afford the strung beauty in the window.

They practice every couple of days, doing covers of their favorite songs. Wan does his hand at vocals, but Jaya says to let him handle it ( _your voice is terrible, man)_. Wan retorts that he can’t sing behind drums, the sound would carry into the mic. And when he goes on to say his voice has gotten _loads_ better in the last few months, Jaya slams his stick on a cymbal to shut up him (which, consequently, just makes him talk even _louder_ ) Raava rests her arms over the keyboard as Wan’s voice booms over the small garage, not having it in her to remind him they don’t even have a mic.

He already knows.

**x. the songwriter** **  
** _(the lines of the song)_

He can’t sing or write songs, but he’s got enough heart in him to make everyone else _think_ he can, so when he pulls the pencil between his lips declaring _“I’m writing another song”_ Raava rolls her eyes and resists the urge to say _“No, you can’t”_

Thankfully, Jaya does it for her.

“Dude, we’ve told you a million times – you’re lyrics suck.”

“But practice makes perfect.” He says, pointing the pencil at him. “And that’s what everything else has been – practice. Now listen to this: ‘ _It’s 2am, I’m waking up to–”_

“Enough!” Jaya laughs, raising his hands as he makes a dash for the door. “At least let me get out of the room!”

The door slams shut and Wan rests his chin on his chest, chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” she asks.

“They weren’t even my lyrics.”

**xi. the bed(head)** **  
** _(the locks of her hair)_

She dyes her hair in spring.

Long, brown locks turn shining white in a matter of hours, which, if anything, manages to make her face appear _glow_ (in the right light, of course) and it’s only now that he realizes _your skin is so pale_.

“It’s not.” She says, brushing his hand away as he tries to hold it on her arm for comparison. “Your bedspread’s too dark, that’s all.”

“You’re blaming my sheets for the fact that you don’t get enough sun?”

“That is exactly what I’m doing.”

He shakes and puts his hand to his chest, like he’s been hurt, his pride mortally wounded. “That’s low, Raava, even for you. I thought you liked my sheets.”

“You wish.” She grins, leaning over to open the drawer they kept the blunts in. Yao had been _furious_ when he first found them, but after some heavy negotiations that involved them bringing up a similar situation of _his_ past and swearing _to never to buy anything like that again_ , they came to the agreement that they could finish the rest of the stock at an even pace, but only _in_ the house. But even after a slow year of thinning out the tin box, they still had a dozen or so left. But their stock has been decreasing drastically once Raava decided to take up the habit. Jaya and Wan always shared between the two of them. She wanted her own.

“We’re running low.” She says, sticking the blunt between her lips.

“That’s only because you don’t like to share.”

“Hey, I put in a good chunk of that drug money Jaya spent, I should get some compensation.” She holds the tip to the lighter he held out for her. “Haven’t you heard of ‘ladies first’?”

“I don’t think that’s what it means.” He snickers, capping the lighter and rolling over to face the ceiling. He watches the smoke fill the top of the room and a deep, lingering breath passes through him as the faint scent of a buzz taunts his senses. He closes his eyes, wondering if he should take one from the tin or not.

The next thing he knows is a small weight pushing down the mattress at his waist and the light touch of an elbow at his ear. His eyes open, and Raava is right next to him, holding the blunt above his chest.

“Be honest with me.” she says, playing with the white lines of her hair. “Do you think this looks good?”

He smiles. “I _love_ your hair.”

She tips the blunt toward him, and his smile grows into a grin.

“Finally decide to share?”

She pulls it away.

“Sort of.” She says, bringing the end to her lips again, and with a slight smile on the corners of her lips, leans in till her face is right above his.

Her lips press into his, and white smoke fills his mouth.

_That’s a first._

**xii. the bad bad news** **  
** _(it’ll be alright)_

“I’m thinking about growing a goatee.” He says, leaning on his headboard one night as he fingers ghost the rhythms songs on the nylon strings of his guitar.

Jaya sits at the base of his bed, throwing a foam ball against the wall. “There’s no way you could pull that off.”

“You’re one to talk, pencil-stache.” Wan grins, and when Jaya goes to throw the ball again he kicks his head with the ball of his foot, ruining his aim. The ball rolls into the corner, and Jaya arcs an arm back to slap Wan’s leg.

“Fuck off.”

Wan pulls his legs back and laughs as Jaya crawls to retrieve the ball.

The doorbell rings.

He jumps off the bed. “I’ll get it.”

.

.

.

Raava is on the other side.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, resting his arm on the door. “You never ring to bell.”

She kicks at the ground. “I need to talk with you… it’s kind of important.”

“Should I get Jaya?”

“No.” she says. “It’ll be easier if I tell you separately. It won’t take long.”

Wan steps into the cold and closes the door, hands rubbing on his arms for warmth as an early winter breeze sweeps over the porch. “What’s up?”

“I’m…” Raava stops and sighs, staring at the ground. He puts a hand on her shoulders, she refuses to meet his worried gaze.

“Hey, what’s this about?” he asks, his fingers squeezing her thin bones. “You’re not…” he stops, and he turns toward the house before whispering “You know…”

“No!” Her head shakes. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m not…” she stops, and when she speaks again he has to strain his head forward to hear. Her voice is the lowest it’s ever been. “I’m not going to be graduating with you guys.”

He swallows hard and his hands tighten on her. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to walk after this semester.” She explains. “In the winter.”

His grip slackens for a moment as her words settle in, and then, firming his hand on her in a gesture of joy, laughs. “Typical! Just when I thought we had a chance at catching up to you, you beat us to the punch!”

“There’s more, Wan.” She puts a hand on his. “I’m graduating, and then I’m moving to college.”

The laugh dies.

“I–” He stops and swallows again, as if the words are lodged in his throat. “What?”

“You know those longshot applications I sent in last spring?” She shrugs. “I got accepted at Republic City, with a scholarship in music. I’m leaving a week after finals, so I can start the spring semester there.”

“That…” He takes his hands off her. “That’s great news.”

Raava shakes her head rapidly, hugging herself as she turns from the house.

“I should go–”

“Raava, wait!” He takes hold of her arm. “It’s fine, really, I’m not mad–”

“Well you should be.” she says, forcing his hand off her. “You should be furious!”

She marches toward her car and opens her purse, hands fumbling on the inside, searching for the keys she had just put inside. He follows her across the lawn, a step behind hers as they reach the side of the car.

“I’m not! I–”

She drops them, and the words die in his mouth for the second time that night as a horrid sound escapes to the night. The keys shine on the edge of the curb, but he doesn’t reach for them, and neither does she. He’s frozen in place as muffled sobs wreck through her body.

He’s never seen her cry before.

“I should have told you sooner.” She says, between shaking breaths. “I should have told you months ago but I couldn’t, I–”

He pulls her in for a tight hug, his arms completely enveloping her body. He rests his chin on the top of her head as she sobs, the tears flow free.

“I’m not mad at you.” He says. “It’s your decision. I can’t make you stay.”

“Everything’s going to change, you know?” She says, pushing her forehead on his body. “The band? The three of us? It’s not going to be the same after this.”

“It’ll be okay…” He says, rubbing her arms from the cold as he turns her to the house. “Come inside.”

**xiii. the farewell** **  
** _(not a final goodbye)_

Somehow, he thinks, this should be sadder.

It’s not like his heart isn’t already in pieces, sticking together with the lingering hope of _‘we’ll call each other, we’ll visit, it’ll be like it’s always been’_ and he thinks _“I should be sad, I should have tears in my eyes”_ but instead he feels utterly numb as the train pulls into the station, knowing that she’ll won’t be with them when it pushes out again.

She takes a breath before turning to them.

“So…” she says, shrugging at the suitcases around her. “I guess this is it.”

His feet are stuck to the pavement.

“Yeah.” He says, almost breathless. “Looks like it.”

“You’ll do great.” Jaya says, trying to stay positive. “All those other chumps, they won’t know what hit ‘em when they hear you play!”

She smiles for the first time in days, crossing the titled floor to give him one last hug. “Thanks.”

Jaya wraps his arms over her back. “Yeah, no problem.”

They separate, and the train workers begin loading her things into the car. Raava rushes to grab one bag off the top before they load it, the same bag she’d brought with them at the Freedom Fighters concert. It feels like eons to Wan, he can’t believe how much has changed.

She stands in front of him, and tries to smile again, but ends up hugging him instead. Her face buried into his shoulder, his hand presses on her back as the last of her belongings are loaded onto the train. Water stings at his eyes and he tries to blink it away, but he feels the slight tremor of her body and sees the way Jaya’s face lights up in a bright red hue, his eyes shining just as badly as his and he opens his arm, pulling him into the hug. He holds them close, and feels like his world is breaking, like nothing’s going to be the same after today.

“I’ll call you guys as soon as I get to a phone.” She says, breaking away from them. “I promise.”

“Y-yeah.” He replies, not knowing what else to say. “We’ll be waiting.”

**xiv. the phone** **  
** _(boring, quiet and dull)_

The last semester goes by slowly.

The clock _tick-tick-tick’s_ on the wall, second after second and it just seems so _boring_ , so quiet knowing that after all the ticking and talking is done he’ll go home, do his homework, go to bed and wake up the next morning to start it all over again. Sure, he’s used to this routine by now, it’s one he’s followed for many years, but he misses opening the garage doors to the sound of Jaya’s drums scraping the floors, sitting on the hood of Yao’s beat up car or laying on the floor of his bedroom, talking and smoking into the darkening night, wondering if Yao would notice if they snuck a few beers from the fridge.

It’s boring, and he sits with his back to the wall and the guitar in his lap, plucking notes into the air, thinking of all the ways this would be so different, if she’d stayed.

And of course, she calls every week.

 _“College is great.”_ She says, the disembodied voice on the end of a phone. _“It’s a little tough, but I’m getting used to it, how are you?”_

He says he’s fine, Jaya and Yao, they’re fine too. At first they talk for a long time, the minutes stretching into half hours and hours and into the night, until the room has turned dark around him and he’s so so tired, falling asleep at the end of his bed.

Then, months pass, and they talk less.

_“Hey, sorry I haven’t called recently. Been busy with midterms, I had a ton of stuff to do lately…”_

And more months after that and it’s summer. He’s graduated, and the weather is perfect and he calls to invite her to a party at the end of the month.

“It’ll be great!” he says. “We can get our stuff and talk and jam out like the good old days!”

The other end is silent for a long time, and a knot builds in his stomach.

 _“Sorry, Wan._ ” She says. _“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I’ve got a job, waitressing at this coffee shop called ‘Harmonic Convergence’. It’s amazing, by the way, you’d love it. They’ve got a stage and a band that plays during the day! There’s even a piano! I would have tried for that job, but it’s not available right now…”_

“So… You won’t be able to come?”

 _“No… I don’t think so. I just started last week and I can’t afford to miss a shift. Not if I want to pay for the next semester.”_ She says. _“I’m sorry. I’ll try to get down there as soon as I can.”_

“Okay.” He sighs. “Talk to you later, then.”

He hangs up, and doesn’t hear from her until fall.

**xv. the recoil** **  
** _(how long to move on)_

He goes to college.

It’s nothing fancy, just the community one on the other side of town, but it’s perfect for him. The classes, although tough, are spread out over the week, so he has plenty of time to do his schoolwork, while holding onto his part-time at the Oasis Mart. With any luck, he’ll be able to get all his core requirements done in a year or two and have enough saved up to go to another college for his major. He has his sights pressed on music composition, but Yao wants him to go into something more technical.

“You don’t want to end up like me, working at a factory for the last fifteen years, 12 hours every day because you can’t find a job out of school!” He nags, but Wan rolls his eyes and keeps his hands at the strings of the guitar, writing down notes and words on staff paper, until his eyes close shut.

.

.

.

A few months later, Yao gets sick.

 _Really_ sick.

All those years of work, making ends meet for the three of them has finally taken its toll. It’s sudden, taking them all by surprise. Yao gets tired and increasingly weak, coughing and gasping for air when he’s not. The doctors think it’s has something to do with the work at the factory, but after months of going in for tests and treatment, they can’t prove anything of that sort. They can’t get any compensation from the factory, they refuse to acknowledge the problem in the first place, not without hard evidence.

The bills pile high, but they can’t rely on Yao to take care of them when he can’t even get out to the car without keeling over. Jaya takes an extra job and Wan drops his next semester, working full time at the Oasis Mart, sometimes taking two shifts per day.

All he does is work and sleep. 

He doesn’t have time to write songs or play the guitar. He doesn’t even have time to call. But the thought lingers in his mind for a second.

It’s been months, she’s probably too busy to be worried.

**xvi. the find** **  
** _(this wasn’t my plan)_

The train is miles away, but the horn whispers through the glass and wood, through his very body and he wakes with a jolt, almost panicked, and he untangles his legs from the blankets that took them prisoner, all the while reaching to the side to find the nightstand and (eventually) his phone. After a few blind attempts, he finally grabs the old device and flips the screen open. He has to squint through the white light for a moment, blinking until his vision has finally adjusted enough to read the time.

_9:41 p.m._

“Still time…” he yawns, rolling over to put the phone back. But just as he taps the edge on the cluttered stand the walls of his room are filled with the all-too-familiar sound of feet thumping across the carpet. The hall light goes on and straight over his face, no thanks to the cracked door, and Wan raises an arm as the crack grows wider, and Jaya stands there with something hanging by his waist.

“Hey, you awake?”

“Barely…” Wan replies, draping his arm over his head. “What’s up?”

Jaya lifts his hand to the light to reveal a six-pack of beer. Wan yawns and rolls over, turning his shoulder to him.

“No, Jaya. I can’t tonight.”

Jaya ignores him, and jumps on the corner of the bed. Tearing a can from the plastic rings, it opens with a crisp _pop_ and he leans over Wan’s body, holding the drink by his nose. Wan shoves him away and Jaya tilts back with laughter, holding the can high above his head.

“I’m serious, Jaya.” He says, gathering up the blanket and sweeping it over his shoulder. “Get lost, I’ve got work in an hour.”

“I thought you had work earlier.”

“Lee had to run out of town for his sister’s baby.” He sighs. “Didn’t have anyone to cover for him, so I told Aye-Aye I’d come in for an extra shift.”

“Dude, that’s like, 16 hours in one day!”

“I know…” Wan closes his eyes. “Now get out of here and let me sleep.”

Jaya lifts his hands above his head. “Alright, fine. Have it your way.”

Wan hears him walking over his room, but not too the door. It isn’t until there’s new weight on the mattress in front of him when his eyes open to Jaya and another beer can right in front of his face. It opens with another loud _pop_ and his skin is sprayed with a mist of alcohol.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Jaya gasps. “The can opened up on its own! What are we going to _doooooo!”_

Wan takes the can from him before he can say another word. Jaya smiles and leans against his headboard, looking rather pleased with himself as Wan brings the drink to his lips.

“Just one.” Wan points at him. “Then you’re out of here.”

Jaya lifts his hand as far as it can go.

“Deal.”

.

.

.

The air’s cold, even for fall, and he ducks under the window, hanging his feet off the side of the house for the first time in months, maybe even years. He reaches on the inside of the house and pulls his demine jacket from the headboard. It does some good against the chill on the wind, but not by too much.

“It’s quiet.” He says, in more of a statement than anything else, and brings the beer to his mouth to take a swing before asking “Isn’t there usually a game going on?”

“I don’t know…” Jaya says from inside. “I don’t keep up with the high school like you do.”

His eyes roll. “I don’t _‘keep up with it’_ , I was just wondering, that’s all.”

The sound of moving boxes comes from his room and Wan turns around to see Jaya rummaging through his closet.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I’m just taking a look.” Jaya responds, opening a lid without so much as a glance to him. “Been a while since I’ve been in here…”

“Yeah, right.” Wan shakes. “Just don’t mess anything up in there, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Jaya says, shifting books and nick-knacks around as he dives deeper. After a few seconds, he pushes the box back and closes the lid. “It’s all junk anyway.”

Wan rolls his eyes back to the window as Jaya goes in for another round of searching through his belongings. He takes another drink of his beer and there’s a few, near silent moments where he hears nothing but Jaya rummaging around in the dark of the closet, and then – 

“Hey, look at this!”

As soon as Wan sees what Jaya’s found, he stops breathing. Or at least he thinks he does, it’s more like he’s gone stiff and Jaya flips the dusty old guitar case over in his hands and presents it triumphantly to Wan. “Been a while since we’ve seen this, huh?”

He shakes his head, feeling warmth go through his body as he takes another drink. “Yeah, four or five years, I think…”

Jaya unlatches the case and holds the guitar upright in his lap.

“Think you can still play?”

Wan stares at the guitar for a moment, then sighs and sets his can on the windowsill.

“Let’s find out.”

.

.

.

After being hidden away for so long, the guitar is out of tune, so he spends some time on the bed, adjusting the knobs and strumming the nylon lines to the right pitch. Jaya hangs upside down off the bed, his fingers tracing along the top of his beer can on the floor.

“You going to play something or what?”

Wan’s lips curl into a small smile as he adjusts the final knob. “Yeah, I’m getting to it…”

The neck feels foreign as his hand slides into place, and he takes a moment before he starts, trying to remember the last time he even played anything on it.

_Sometime in the summer… or was it spring…_

Slowly his fingers remember the tabs for C, B and B flat. Strumming lightly as he goes through each note – D and E follow, and he has a little trouble remembering F, and he messes up a few times, trying to remember where to put each tip. Eventually he has them all, and a long breath leaves him as he plucks the strings one-by-one to play a simple C scale. Still on the ground, Jaya begins to chuckle.

“Now you’re getting it.” he grins, lifting his beer can in a celebratory pose. “Remember when you first got that thing? It took you at least a month to figure out how to hold it.”

“It was two days, Jaya, and _you’re_ the one who showed me the wrong way in the first place.”

Jaya lifts his feet off the bed and sits up to lean against it. “Heh.” He mutters, bringing the beer to his lips. “Maybe I should go buy my drums back from Yun, then we’d be able to get the band back together.”

Wan stops playing, and the guitar slackens in his hands.

“Hey, man.” Jaya says, sitting up. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just–”

“I know, Jaya.” Wan sighs, tapping his finger on the guitar. “It’s just been a while since I thought about that, okay?”

_Four or five years… that sounds about right._

“I have to get ready for work.” He says, setting the guitar by the bed. “See you tomorrow.”

**xvii. the job** **  
** _(wounds heal, hearts don’t)_

Aye-Aye knows something’s wrong.

“Hey,” He says, walking up the register as Wan hands a customer their change. “What’s with you?”

“It’s nothing.” He says, putting his arms on the counter. “I’m just a little tired.”

Aye-Aye crosses his arms. “You didn’t have to take the extra shift, you know. I could have found someone else.”

“I’m fine, really. I just…” He sighs, and slaps his fingers on the edge of the cash register. “I’m just thinking about a lot of things right now.”

Aye-Aye pauses for a moment, staring at the floor before asking “How’s he doing?”

“The same, most days.” Wan shrugs. “Sometimes worse.”

“It’s been a few years since it happened… Haven’t the doctors found anything?”

“Yao doesn’t go there anymore.” He says. “I think he’s just… trying to live with it now.”

Aye-Aye puts a hand on his shoulder as another customer rings the bell above the door.

“You’ve been through a lot, friend. I hope it get easier for you.”

Wan nods as he leaves. “Thanks. I hope it does too.”

**xviii. the plan** **  
** _(you two are crazy)_

A few days later, he wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, man. Wake up.” Jaya says, pulling his arm. “Come to the kitchen. Yao’s waiting.”

“What’s–” he yawns, standing from the bed. “–wrong? Did something happen?”

“He’s fine.” Jaya says. “We’ve got something for you.”

Jaya drags him into the kitchen a few minutes later. Yao is sitting at the table with a slip of paper in his hand. Wan rubs his eyes, and takes the paper when Yao holds it to him.

“ _3415 East Garland, 1:15pm._ ” He reads, and hands the slip back to Yao. “What’s that?”

“The first part is an address.” Yao explains. “The second is when your train leaves.”

Wan blinks. “Train?”

Jaya loops an arm over him. “You’re going to see Raava. Tonight.”

He’s awake now.

“I–” Wan puts a hand to his head, staring at Jaya like he’s gone mad. “What are you talking about? I can’t go see Raava, I’ve got to work tonight!”

“I called Aye-Aye two days ago and told him to give you the weekend off.” Jaya says, winking as he slips a hand in his pocket to take out a ticket. “It’s all taken care of, we even bought you the ticket home.”

Wan wanders the room, studying the ticket in his hand. “What brought this up?”

“Well, you miss her, don’t you?” Yao asks. “That should be reason enough.”

“But it’s been years since we’ve even spoken! How would I even find her, if she’s still in the city at all?”

“I tried doing a little digging, but I couldn’t find out where she is.” Jaya says. “But I found that coffee shop she told you about, it’s a good enough place to start.”

“So let me get this straight, you’re sending me on a wild goose chase to find someone in a city I’ve never been to, who might not even be there?”

Jaya shrugs. “Pretty much.”

“You two are nuts.” Wan shakes his head. “But I’m in.”

**xix. the train** **  
** _(back a second time)_

They’re at the station when Wan realizes something important.

“Why aren’t you coming too?” He asks, turning to Jaya. “Don’t you miss her?”

“Well, yeah… of course I do.” Jaya says. “But, I was watching when she told you the news outside back then and… well… you don’t need me to be a third wheel anymore.”

Wan’s breath is hitched for a second, and he steps toward his almost-brother with no real words to say.

“Jaya, you’re not–”

“It’s fine!” Jaya interrupts, grinning to hide his pain. “Just tell her to visit when you find her!”

Wan wraps his arms over him as the train enters the station. “Thanks, man.”

Jaya returns the hug. “No problem, bro.”

**xx. the arrival** **  
** _(it’ll be different the next time i come)_

The sun is setting when the train arrives in Republic City.

The trip was long and he feels exhausted, even though he slept most of the way and there’s a mad rush of people leaving the cars as he stands from his seat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he grabs the small shoulder bag he brought along, and he glances at the windows he passes on his way to the front, watching as families and friends stand outside a bright line across the floor of the station, holding signs and greeting each other with hugs and handshakes of all sorts. There’s a heaviness in his chest as he leaves the train with no one waiting on the other side, but he knows it’ll be different the next time he comes.

He just has to find her first.

**xxi. the taxi** **  
** _(lingering thoughts)_

He calls a taxi outside the station.

“3415 East Garland.”

There’s too many questions in his head – _What if she doesn’t recognize me? What if she doesn’t know who I am anymore? What if I can’t find her? What if she moved away?_ – The city blurs in a mix of sunlit glass and buzzing lights and he just wants to cover his face and crawl into a hole somewhere in the dark.

 _This was a bad idea_ , is the last thing he thinks.

The cab driver pulls beside a curb. “We’re here.”

It takes him a few minutes to leave.

**xxii. the coffee shop** **  
** _(wondering and waiting)_

For a coffee shop, the place was not what he was expecting.

The entrance is raised with a ramp leading into the dining area. It’s a pretty big place, with lot of tables and booths enclosing a stage at the end of the room. But it’s also dark, the only source of light being some thin multi-colored bulbs hanging above each table, with enough light to illuminate the surface, but nothing else.

 _It looks more like a bar than anything else_ , he thinks as he steps up to the counter where a barista is smiling at him.

“What can I get for you?” the man asks.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me find someone.” Wan says, and he reaches into his pocket, only to realize he hadn’t brought a picture to show. “Uh, she was hired here a couple of years ago… long white hair, maybe brown…. blue eyes…”

The barista’s eyes narrow on him. “Are you talking about Raava?”

“Yes! That’s her!” Wan smiles. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“You can find her here. She replaced out pianist two years back, been playing here ever since.” The man says. “She’s scheduled to go on in an hour, you mind waiting?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Alright. Take a seat anywhere you’d like.”

“Thanks.” He says, and walks down the ramp. He’s halfway down when he turns and runs up to the counter again. “Hey, if you talk to her, don’t tell her I’m here. I want this to be a surprise.”

The man smiles. “Sure thing.”

Wan takes a seat in the corner opposite the stage, and waits.

**xxiii. the band – part ii** **  
** _(but i’m not with you)_

The light above him goes dim as the band sets up their equipment. A bass player, drums, and guitarist – they all strap on their instruments, plug in and adjust the wires and mic stands and Wan feels his stomach do flips and fall to the floor when he sees her walk up to the stage, moving within the other band members so calmly as she takes her place at the piano.

The stage lights up as the guitarist adjusts the microphone one last time, and with the nod of his head, the band begins to play. He sits through their entire performance, and fights back the thought _‘it should be me up there with you’_. It’s been six years since they saw each other last, after all, of course she moved on.

His eyes never leave her.

**xxiv. the lockup** **  
** _(now or never)_

Customers thin as the hours go on, and in the end, when the night has gotten so late there’d be no point in selling coffee anymore, he’s still sitting there, waiting in the dimmed darkness as the band packs up their things.

“Hey, good show tonight, Ra.” The bass player says. “Don’t think I’ve heard ya play like that before.”

“It wasn’t different from any other night.” She says, shrugging her bag over her shoulder as she steps off stage. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

She heads for the door.

“Hey, slow down, Raava!” the barista calls, stopping her at the counter. “I think there’s someone who’s been waiting to see you.”

“See me?” she blinks. “Who?”

He takes a breath and stands.

_Now or never–_

“Hey, Raava.”

She stares at him like she’s looking at a ghost.

“Wan?”

He smiles.

_She remembers._

**xxv. the first time** **  
** _(remember (me))_

“I can’t believe it…” she says for the third time since they’ve sat down. “How did you even find me?”

“Jaya found the address of this place online,” He shrugs. “The rest was chance.”

“It’s so good to see you again.” She says, resting a hand on her cheek. “How have you been doing? What school did you end up going to?”

“We’re…” He scratches his neck. “Doing fine. Yao got sick a couple years back, I had to drop out of the school at our place to take care of him.”

“That’s terrible!” She says. “Is he doing any better now?”

“A little. Sometimes it’s hard to tell…”

Raava rests her hand on the table, and stares at her lap.

“I’m sorry…” She says. “This is all so strange for me. I always meant to go back, but I was–”

“You were busy, I know.” He sighs, wrapping his arm over the back of his chair.

“No.” She shakes. “It wasn’t that. At least, not all the time.”

His brow tightens. “Then what was it?”

“I was scared.” She says. “So much time had already past when we last saw each other, I was afraid I’d changed… or that you’d moved on.”

He puts his hand on hers.

“Well… I haven’t.” He says. “Changed, that is. At least… I hope I haven’t.”

She leans in and cups their hands with her free one.

“Well,” She says, examining him closely. “The goatee is new.”

He grins. “You like it?”

She leans across the table, till she’s inches from his face.

“I _love_ it.”

She kisses him.

This time, it feels like the first.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
